


Nice Monsters (defunct)

by CoreyWW



Category: Original Work
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Beach House, Beaches, Cute, Depression, Dramedy, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Fantastic Racism, Fluff, Ghosts, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Haunted Houses, Haunting, Horror, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Little Mermaid Elements, Lovecraftian, Lovecraftian Monster(s), Mild Language, Monsters, Non-Consensual Touching, POV Nonhuman, Paranormal, Pictures, Pining, Poltergeists, Psychic Abilities, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sea Monsters, Sweet, Texting, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-24 12:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14955063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoreyWW/pseuds/CoreyWW
Summary: Not all monsters are evil. In fact, most aren't. People tend to fear them since the world is full of them, from the increasingly common vampires to the countless stricken by lycanthropy to thethingslurking beneath the ocean. But most of them are fine, once you get to know them. These are stories of nice monsters.[Loosely connected stories of non-humans in a world where monsters and humans co-exist.]





	1. Seashells (Mazue)

**Author's Note:**

> So I did some original writing that I thought I’d share. A lot of this is inspired by conversations I had a long time with my old friend [Endling](http://endling.tumblr.com/) and it takes inspiration from [this piece he did a long time ago](https://endling.deviantart.com/art/The-Hollow-Races-422384115). This is posted with his blessing and diverges quite a bit from that, but I still felt it was important to make sure he was cool with this first before posting.
> 
> I enjoyed this quite a lot so I might do more of that. Please let me know if you guys like this cause I enjoyed doing it A LOT. Any comment is encouraging.

Mazue liked to go above water sometimes and watch someone.

He was a pale boy, who walked along the beach every morning, collecting seashells.

He looked young, maybe fourteen, about the same age as Mazue. She didn’t know much about him, except that he looked cute. Judging by his pale white skin, she figured he was a vampire. After all, she watched him on the Black Beach, which was an area that vampires seemed to frequent as well as humans. Vampires seemed to be attracted to black stuff, like they didn’t appreciate color or something.

Mazue didn’t get that, because she loved color. She herself was a pinkish hue, with fins tinted purple. Only her eyes were solid black, like all of her kind. It made it easy to see underwater. But she loved the rest of her color, loved blending into the similar colored schools of fish that wove around Mother’s massive body.

Mother didn’t swim, mostly because she rested at the bottom of the ocean. She didn’t so much look like a fish, or even like a hybrid like Mazue and her many, many sisters. She looked like more of a throbbing, coral-like mass that stretched and wove throughout the ocean floor, with many holes and crevices. Mazue, her sisters, and her nieces lived in those crevices, like they were giant cubby-holes. Mother’s only moving parts were countless, squid-like tendrils that mostly only came out to nurse her younger children after they hatched.

Needless to say, Mother was very large, but Mazue would never say so; she might be self-conscious about that and that would be rude to say.

Mother would send her children out to find drowned humans or monsters as food for them all each morning. When Mazue got older, she knew she’d also be responsible for finding land-creatures to “date” as Mother would say. It was important to Mother, so that she could have strong grandchildren, ones capable of going on land like Mazue.

Mazue could hold her breath for a long time, but she still had gills, so she couldn’t stay above water forever. She could last maybe a day or so without water at most. She would have loved to test it, but Mother said it wasn’t allowed. She was too young. Right now, she could only search for food. It was during one of these outings that she saw the boy for the first time. Since then, she would sneak off to watch him, collecting his seashells.

Mother didn’t know about him ... at least, Mazue didn’t think so. Even with her many eyes, she was deep in the ocean. She couldn’t see up to the surface. Or rather, Mazue _hoped_ so.

She thought of defying mother and walking on land to talk to the boy. She knew the human language, of course. Mother had made sure to feed the information into her dreams so she knew more than the language of air-bubbles her sisters spoke in. And she had legs, unlike some of her other sisters, so sometimes she’d think, why not talk to him?

But ... she was shy. After all, he was a nice, beautiful vampire boy and she ...

Well, she was basically a fish with legs. So, she watched from afar.

Sometimes, watching him pick up seashells, she could get sad as she thought about his future. One day, Mother said, the oceans would rise and Mazue’s sisters and nieces would come from the sea to wipe the land clean. Their cities will be washed away like sand in the high tide, and all the greedy land-dwellers would be reduced to chum and devoured as easily as a whale eats krill.

Pretty grim stuff, all things considered. Mazue didn’t like to think about it too hard.

She just liked to watch the boy. Maybe, if all that actually happened, he’d be fine. Who knows?

Maybe he knew how to swim.

... or maybe someday Mazue would get the courage to teach him to swim, if he didn’t.

But for now, she watched.


	2. Tending to the Babies (Susan)

Susan cradled the crying baby in her arms, while the living people in the house looked around in horror.

The people had been eating dinner when they must have heard the baby. It seemed like a normal enough family: a father, a mother, and a young boy, no more than six. The boy’s name was Ian; she hadn’t bothered to remember the other’s names since they moved into the large, old house last month. Honesty, the boy was the only one Susan liked.

“There it is again,” said the father, his fork clattering as he dropped it on the plate.

The mother didn’t look up, simply shaking her head.

“You’re just hearing things, George,” she said.

“It sounds like crying,” he said.

“It’s just the house settling.”

“Yeah, that’s just what people who are about to get murdered say in a horror movie--”

“Shut _up_ , George.”

It wasn’t the house settling. The baby was just cranky today. Susan rocked him. He was transparent, just like Susan herself. Susan could see herself and the baby just fine, but normal people could not ... _most_ of the time. Some saw and heard more than others. Apparently the father was just sensitive enough to hear things, even when Susan didn’t want him too.

The boy, however, was more perceptive. He looked up from the food.

“Her name is Susan,” he said.

The mother grimaced.

“Ian, don’t start that nonsense again--”

“Well she _looks_ like a Susan.”

“Ian, _zip it_.”

Ian brushed his short blond hair from his eyes.

“But she is! She’s just trying to take care of the baby.” He looked right at Susan. “She’s right there.”

Susan smiled and lifted her hand, waggling her fingers at him. He was such a sweet boy.

George didn’t seem to agree.

“Ian, you’re scaring daddy,” he said. “Let’s not talk about your imaginary friend again--”

“But--”

The mother slammed her hands down on the table.

“Ian, shut up right now!”

“ _But mom--_ ”

“Alright, that’s it!” She pointed down the hallway. “Go to your room right now!”

Ian stared in disbelief for a moment, before he scowled.

“Fine!” as he stormed off. “This food sucked anyway.”

George covered his mouth, stifling a snicker.

“ _IAN_!” shouted the mother.

But Ian ran down the hall. Susan heard his door slam seconds later.

The door slam set the baby off again.

“Oh, no no,” Susan whispered. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.”

She rocked the baby, then glared at the parents. The mom had a stern look on her face, noticing George trying to conceal his face.

“George, are you _laughing_?” she said.

George cleared his throat.

“No, not at all, Clara,” he said. “That might have been a little harsh--”

“Are you criticizing me?”

George paused. The laughter was gone from his voice.

“No ... nothing,” he said. “Nevermind.”

Susan narrowed her eyes at the mother.

_What a bitch_ , she thought bitterly.

Susan glanced down the hall where Ian had run. She began to float after him, but stopped. Giving a devious smile, she instead drifted towards Clara. She licked her index finger then ran it down her spine.

The effect was immediate. Susan could see goosebumps pop on her arm. Her skin went pale as the finger dragged down. Clara may not be able to see Susan or the baby, but she definitely felt that.

George noticed immediately.

“You okay?” he said.

“Yeah, I just... I just got a chill,” Clara whispered. She picked up her fork, but she was no longer attempting to eat.

George gave a bitter smile.

“Oh don’t worry, honey, I’m sure it’s just the house settling.”

“Fuck off, George.”

Susan chuckled. The baby also mimicked her with a playful giggle.

_Good, fixing two problems at once_ , Susan thought.

She started floating down the hall, only stopping to whisper in George’s ear, “ _You’re welcome_.”

George turned his head in Susan’s direction, as if trying to decide if he really heard something or not. But after a moment, he simply shrugged.

Susan smiled. Maybe the dad wasn’t so bad after all, she decided.

She stopped in front of Ian’s door. She lifted her hand and tried to knock, only for her hand to slip through the wall.

“Woops,” Susan said.

The baby giggled. Susan smiled.

“Hush, you,” she said.

Susan sighed.

“Ian, can I come in?” she called out.

No answer. Maybe he couldn’t hear her.

“Okay, I’m coming in,” she said.

She phased through the door.

It was a normal enough room, aside from the old, dried walls that needed to be repainted like every other room in the house. He had a lot of stuffed animals, even a big teddy bear. The baby and Ian liked to sit on it together. He also had a lot of action figures and other toys in the floor. A little messy, but boys will be boy.

Ian sat on his bed, covered with superhero characters. He had his arms folded and lip pouted.

“I don’t wanna talk,” Ian said.

“Okay ...” Susan said. “That’s fine.” She smiled at the baby and lifted him up. “You can play with the baby if you want--”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Oh ... okay.”

Ian scrunched his nose up.

“My mom hates me,” he said.

Susan rolled her eyes.

“She doesn’t _hate_ you,” Susan said.

“Well she doesn’t believe me! Dad doesn’t either! They think I’m making this all up!”

“Well, um ...” Susan sighed. She didn’t have much experience with children as old as Ian ... at least, she didn’t think she did. Her old life was cloudy. “Well ... you know you’re not. So you shouldn’t feel like you’re doing something wrong.”

Ian snapped his head up.

“Can’t you just go away so my parents won’t think I’m weird?!” Ian shouted.

Susan’s mouth opened. The baby stared at him in silence.

“I ...” But Susan didn’t get a chance to finish. Ian’s lip immediately began to quiver. “Oh Ian ...”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know, bootie,” Susan said.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, I know ... we’re not going anywhere.”

Ian leapt from the bed and ran up to hug Susan ... but of course, like always, he phased through her. His eyes clenched shut, clearly about to cry.

“Oh dear ...” Susan drifted down to his level and ran an invisible hand on his head. She was sure if felt as light as wind through his hair. “It’s okay, Ian. It’s okay.”

Ian buried his face in his hands. For a few minutes, they said nothing. The only sound was Ian’s quiet sobs.

The baby eventually reached for Ian’s face. Ian looked at his tiny hands and managed a laugh.

“Maybe I can play with the baby a bit,” Ian said with a cracked voice.

“There we go,” Susan said with a smile.

Ian hesitated, then asked.

“Who’s baby was it?” Ian asked.

Susan paused, then shook her head.

“I don’t remember.”

“Was it _yours_?” he asked.

“I ... I really don’t know. Maybe. I think I was kinda young when I--” She cleared her throat. “But I guess that doesn’t really mean anything one way or the other.”

“... okay.”

Susan frowned. Ian always asked questions about her and the baby, from before she died. She wished she had answers, but she remembered so little. She supposed in a way it made sense. All her memories were in her head, which, along with the rest of her body, was long gone.

The baby’s name was one thing that always nagged her. She didn’t know it.

Hell, she didn’t even know if Susan was her real _name_. Ian had given that to her. After all, like Ian said, she looked like a Susan.

But she supposed that didn’t matter so much. All that mattered was that Ian and the baby were happy. Everything else, she would deal with as best she could.

After all, she figured she had an eternity.


	3. Texting Sylvia (Marco, Sylvia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Mention of suicidal ideation, referenced instance of non-consensual biting.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made using [iFakeTextmessage.com](https://ifaketextmessage.com/)


	4. Changing Tides (Ethan, Marco, Mazue)

Ethan woke up, staring up at the coffin lid. He almost started to scream before his life came into focus and he remembered he slept in the coffin willingly.

He heard the alarm outside the coffin. Almost holding his breath, he pushed against the top and breathed a sigh of relief when it popped open.

Ever since his Grandma got the coffin for him as a “gift,” he’d had nightmares where he could not escape:l desperately scratching against the lid, until his fingernails were cracked and bloody.

He looked over to his nightstand. He pushed his sketchbook and pencils aside until he saw his phone, picking it up to stop the alarm.

Down the hall, he heard his Grandma yell for him, her hint of Romanian accent clearly recognizable.

“ _Nepot,_ breakfast is ready.”

Ethan sighed. He still felt tired. He hadn’t had a good nights sleep since he got that coffin. He hadn’t wanted to talk to Grandma about it but at this point, he might have to.

* * *

Breakfast was typical: eggs and bacon drizzled with blood from the vampire market.

Ethan didn’t feel hungry, only dragging his fork along the yoke.

“Everything okay, _nepot?_ ” Grandma said. “You look like you don’t feel good?”

Ethan looked up, across the dinner table to see the furrowed brow on Grandma’s face. She was pale, just like Ethan and every other vampire he’d ever met. _Unlike_ any other vampire Ethan knew, however, Grandma actually looked _old_. Wrinkles were all over her face, and her teeth and fangs were worn down.

Grandma said that, despite what people say, vampires do get older, just very, _very_ slowly. Whenever Ethan ever tried to ask outright _how_ old Grandma was, she deflected and said it wasn’t nice to ask old ladies that.

Ethan shook his head.

“No, no,” he lied. “Everything’s fine, _mamaie._ ” Mamaie, the word for “grandma,” was one of the few Romanian words Grandma taught Ethan that he actually used.

Grandma looked down at her own plate and sat the fork down.

“ _Ethan_ ,” she said, “Don’t lie to your _mamaie_.”

Ethan cleared his throat. He poked at his eggs, the yolk dribbling out.

“No, it’s fine, I just ... I had trouble sleeping, I guess,” Ethan answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

He was almost hoping Grandma hadn’t heard him, but no such luck. She leaned back in the chair.

“Why?” she asked. “Is something wrong with the coffin?”

_Yeah, there is. It’s a freaking coffin_ , Ethan thought. But of course, he couldn’t say that.

“I just... I guess I’m just not used to it,” Ethan said. “The coffin seems very confining ...”

Grandma nodded.

“It can take some getting used to,” she said, “but it’s very important to your vampire heritage.”

Ethan suppressed a sigh. _Oh here we go ..._ he thought.

“Back in the old country, normal humans would drive stakes through our hearts in our sleep, like cowards,” Grandma said, almost spitting the words. “And werewolves, they were even worse ...”

Ethan shrunk his head into his shoulders at the mention of werewolves, but Grandma didn’t seem to notice.

“If a vampire were unlucky enough to sleep _at night_ during a full moon (not that many did, but _if_ ), they would tear them apart piece by piece. The coffin provides some protection. Especially when its imbued with the right magic.” Grandma looked down, cutting her egg. “It’s tradition.”

“Yeah, but ...” Ethan chuckled. “That stuff doesn’t happen anymore. Noone is gonna tear me apart in my sleep if I’m in a normal bed.”

Grandma glanced up, a dark look on her face.

“Are you really so certain, _nepot_?”

Ethan’s chest sank. He grimaced.

“W-what’s that supposed to mean?” Ethan said.

Grandma shook her head.

“I just worry about you,” Grandma said. “After what happened to your parents, it’s in my nature to worry.” Her fork scraped against the plate. “Especially with the kind of company you keep.”

Ethan scowled and almost threw his fork down.

“Oh really? _This again_?!” Ethan shouted.

“ _Don’t yell_!” Grandma shouted back.

“Why do hate Marco so much?!” Ethan said. “He’s my best friend!”

Grandma shook her head, incredulous.

“I don’t have a problem with Marco!” she said. “He seems fine enough. But he’s still a werewolf--” She grimaced. “You can’t be too careful around these _vârcolacs._ They’re not trustworthy, they can’t control themselves--”

Ethan’s hands started to shake as he ground his teeth together.

“Okay, now you’re just being racist.”

“ _Watch your mouth_!” Grandma said, now shaking. “You have no idea how the world works, you have no clue what I’ve been through, so don’t act like you know everything at sixteen years old!”

“I don’t need to be as old as you to know what being _wrong_ looks like!”

Grandma stood up and slammed her fists on the table.

“I just don’t want my _nepot_ to get killed _like his father and mother did_!”

Ethan stared at her. His mouth was open, but at the mention of his parents ... he could find nothing to say.

Grandma loomed over him, her intense glare fixed on him. There was dead silence ... until there was a knock on the door.

Neither Grandma nor Ethan moved. There was another, louder knock, this time in an annoying rhythmic fashion. Ethan recognized it immediately as Marco’s knock.

“Hellooo~” Marco called from outside. “Anybody up?” Again, he knocked repeatedly.

Ethan looked up at Grandma, who had a scowl on her face. She turned towards the front door.

“The door is _open_ ,” she shouted, coldly.

The door swung wide open as Marco walked in. Like most of the times Ethan saw him, he had a smile on his face. His green eyes, striking compared against his mocha skin, had their usual gleem in them. He scratched the short hair on his head as he walked in, but his arm, leg, and facial hair were getting thicker. This was not surprising; all the hair aside from his head seemed to grow like crazy the closer it got to a full moon, even after taking wolfsbane pills

“Yo, what’s for breakfast?” Marco said as he entered.

Ethan had only just then realized he was frozen in his seat, unable to say anything. Marco blinked when he received no response, his eyes darting from Ethan to Grandma. His smile faded.

“I interrupt something?” Marco said.

Ethan finally managed to make words. “I--” he started.

Grandma cut him off.

“No,” she said. She sat back down, her hand gripping the side of the table as if she had to steady herself. “We were just talking.”

Marco nodded. “Okay,” he agreed. He said nothing further about it, but caught eyes with Ethan. It was all he needed to do to know they’d discuss it later.

Marco turned back towards Grandma, his broad smile showing all his teeth, now sharper and more canine-like due to the approaching full moon.

“And Mrs. Vianu, may I say you’re looking lovely this morning,” Marco said.

“Thank you,” Grandma said. But she didn’t smile back. “Eggs and bacon were for breakfast, since you asked.”

“Oooh, could I get a _doggie_ bag?” Marco grinned wider.

Ethan had to stifle a laugh. But Grandma simply stared at him. She glanced at her plate then unceremoniously slid it towards Marco.

“Forks are in the drawer,” she mumbled.

“Yay, scraps!” Marco said.

Grandma shook her head.

“Doesn’t your house ever feed you, child?” she said.

“Clearly not enough, ma’am,” he said, picking up his plate and walking to the drawer.

“Hmm,” was all Grandma said in response.

Marco pulled a fork from the drawer and started shoveling food in his mouth. Grandma simply gave him a look, as if she was watching not a person, but a real dog. An _animal_.

Ethan narrowed his eyes as his stomach soured. Unable to take anymore, he stood up.

“I’m gonna put on my sunscreen,” Ethan said. “I’m going to the beach.”

Grandma rolled her eyes.

“Again?” she said.

“Yeah, _again_ ,” Ethan said coldly.

Ethan’s eyes were fixed on Grandma. Things were silent. Even Marco stopped eating food long enough for his eyes to drift from Ethan to his Grandma.

Grandma scowled.

“... be careful,” she said. “Even if you can’t drown, there’s sharks out there.”

“Yeah ...” Ethan said as he walked back towards his bathroom to get ready. “ _Whatever_ ,” he mumbled.

* * *

“So clearly I picked a bad time to stop in for breakfast,” Marco said as soon as he and Ethan stepped out of Grandma’s beach house and walked down the sand towards the shoreline. “What was that about?”

“What do you think? Same old crap ...” Ethan said, shaking his head.

Marco nodded. “Oh ...”

“ _Yeah_.”

Ethan sighed and looked up. It was a bright and sunny day, so Ethan had to wear his grey hoodie on top of just putting on sunscreen. The special sunscreen prevented him from dying in the sunlight for about twenty four hours, but his skin still got uncomfortably hot on clear days. Granted, the hoodie made him hot as well, but at least his skin wouldn’t feel like it was on fire.

Marco coughed.

“Look, don’t worry about that.” Marco put on a forced smile. “I think I’m starting to grow on her.”

Ethan gave a bitter laugh.

“If you say so ...” Ethan said. He frowned and lowered his voice. “I just don’t get why she has to be like that, you know? I mean she’s my Grandma so I love her but ...” He sighed. “I just wish she wasn’t like that. It makes me feel like a bad person for not outright hating her or something ...”

Marco rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, Ethan is _so horrible_ for not hating his family,” Marco teased.

Ethan nudged Marco with his elbow as he walked. Despite himself, a smile crept on his face.

“Shut up,” Ethan said with a laugh.

“Heh, well, it’s true,” Marco said. “Like, come on, it’s not like you’re the one being a jerk to me or anything. It doesn’t make me think any differently of you or anything just cause she has own dumb hang-ups. You’re still the same adorable loser I’ve always known.”

“Prick.” Ethan stumbled down a slight incline down the sand dunes to the wetter sand of the beach. “That does make me feel a little better, though. Thanks man.”

Marco gave a big smile.

“Aren’t you gonna scratch behind my ear and call me a good boy?” Marco said.

“Is that your fetish or something?” Ethan replied.

Marco opened his eyes wide in and put on an exaggerated expression of shock.

“Hey, look ... this conversation is not about _me_.”

Ethan chuckled. He pushed his hoodie back and ran a hand through his dark hair. He could feel salt spray in his eyes as he looked out towards the ocean. He was glad he came out here. Ethan thought he was weird for being a vampire that enjoyed the beach so much, but something about being near the ocean felt so relaxing. Just the rhythmic sound of the tides, the crunch of sand under his shoes, the sight of seashells in the wet, blackish sand near the shore ...

“You know, a place called the Black Beach doesn’t have any right looking this nice,” Marco remarked.

“It’s alright,” Ethan said with a smile.

“It seems a little unfair, you know. The vampire who gets killed by the sun gets to live right on the beach. I do fine in the sun but I have to live three miles away, down the street from the burger place with that weird smell.”

“It doesn’t smell weird.”

“It does, trust me. My nose is better than yours, Ethan.”

Ethan shook his head. He couldn’t believe how much his mood had improved just coming down here.

“Wanna help me collect seashells?” he said.

Marco shrugged. “Alright. We making a necklace or something?”

“No I just ... like seashells. I’ve been drawing a bunch lately, that’s all.”

“Is that like your new weird obsession now?”

“I...” Ethan glared. “I don’t have weird obsessions.”

“Oh ... oh, really now, Ethan?” Marco folded his arms and gave a look like a father scolding his son. “Because I seem to remember a little pale boy who not that long ago got a little too into trading card games.”

“I...” Ethan turned his head away, blushing. “I don’t see why you have to bring that up.”

“And then you got bored with them and spent months making your own.”

“Okay, I get it.”

Marco put on a bad imitation of Ethan’s voice, with an exaggerated accent. “‘Okay Marco, so each round has five phases. The first one is the draw phase, then the pre-planning phase--’”

“Alright, okay, you’ve made your point--”

“‘So if you have an Arcane card you--’”

“You’re an asshole. You know that right?”

Marco dropped the act. “Don’t try to change me, baby.”

“You gonna help me get seashells or just make fun of me all morning?”

“Why pick one when I can do both?”

Ethan felt the smile creep back on his face.

“Come on, let’s get closer to the water. There’s usually a bunch of cool ones down--”

Ethan froze in place. He looked out towards the water. He looked at the waves slowly rising and falling in the distance.

Marco noticed and nudged him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I ...” Ethan shook his head, eyes fixed on the ocean. He hadn’t seen anything but for some reason, he couldn’t stop staring out. What had previously been the comfort of a seaside morning, splashing waves and dark tides, now made his skin tingle uncomfortably.

“Hey um ...” Ethan scratched the back of his neck. “You ever get the weird feeling like you’re being watched.”

Marco blinked, then shook his head.

“No. No one has ever felt like that before. You’re just weird.”

Ethan rolled his eyes.

“Thanks, I feel tons better,” Ethan said.

Marco waved dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it,” Marco said. “You’re probably just imagining it cause your Grandma brought up the thing about sharks.” He shrugged. “Not that I really get that. I mean, unless your head gets bitten off, you can just regenerate. Unless it comes at you with a wooden stake or something, I guess.”

Ethan thought for a moment. Marco was probably right; it probably was just jitters from Grandma’s comment. She did like to bring up the drowned or half-eaten people that occasionally show up on the shore. It didn’t happen often at all, maybe once in a blue moon, but often enough that it made the news every now and again.

Still, he didn’t think that would make him feel like he was being watched. He found the beach peaceful, but lately, he’d found himself having that unsettling feeling more often.

“... yeah. You’re probably right,” Ethan said with a shrug. “I dunno.” He crouched down, sifting through the sand for more shells.

* * *

_HE NOTICED ME!_ Mazue thought, drifting just under the surface of the water.

She wasn’t right at the shore line, but fortunately her hearing was good enough to hear the conversation. It sounded muffled since they were not in the ocean, but still.

She could hardly contain her glee. Bubbles blew from her gills as she spoke in her native language. Like some words in her Mother’s language, there was no direct land-dweller equivalent, but if Mazue had to describe it, it would be “excited, wordless screaming.”

She swam backwards and, in a flash, twirled through the water in a summersault motion. She couldn’t believe the first time she summoned the courage to get close enough to actually hear the boy, she found this out.

He actually noticed someone watching him. It was like they were connected.

Her face hurt from smiling, all her thin, razorlike teeth on display.

And now she knew his name.

_Ethan_.

It even sounded cute. She’d never heard a land-dweller’s name so wonderful before.

Granted this was the first land-dweller name she had ever heard, but that was beside the point.

The ear-like fins on the side of her head quivered as she made out more of Ethan’s wonderful words.

“So what about you? How have you been?” he said.

The other boy (Markie or whatever) replied.

“Eh, you know ... nothing major,” he said. Mazue could hear his discomfort. “Was up late talking to Sylvia for a bit. She was upset.”

Mazue folded her arms, treading water with her legs. _Yes, you’re quite nice and everything,_ she thought _, but you’re interrupting more of Ethan talking so--_

“Oh gosh,” Ethan said. “Was she okay?”

Mazue put her hand to her mouth, tilting her head towards them.

_Ethan is concerned! Nevermind, this must be important then!_

“I _guess,_ ” Markie-or-whoever replied. “She’s still having trouble adjusting to ... you know, being a vampire.” Mazue could faintly hear his sigh. “Took your advice and said I had a friend who might, you know, be able to relate to her better but ... it’s--it’s still soon for that I guess. I’m not gonna pressure her.”

“Okay,” Ethan said. “Well ... if she ever wants to talk, let me know. Any friend of yours is worth helping you know.”

“Thanks man.”

Mazue felt a tingle in her chest.

_He’s so nice! And wonderful and the best and_ I want to go up there right now!

Mazue found herself kicking forward before she stopped herself.

After all, what would she say?

_Hi,_ she imagined herself saying. _I’ve been creepily watching you for a long time now and my Mother is a being of unfathomable power that lives under the ocean that will one day lead my family to come on land and kill everyone you know, I WOULD LIKE TO DATE NOW._

No, that would be terrible. And this was assuming Ethan didn’t take one look at her and run away. She looked down at her pink scales and grimaced. She usually found her pink scales attractive but lately, when she thought of how different land-dwellers look, she found herself rather ... _abnormal_.

She couldn’t just go up there now ... though she supposed she could risk another peek.

She craned her head to the surface for just a moment, looking towards the beach ...

She saw Ethan crouched down, picking up a tiny seashell between his thumb and index finger. He had a content smile on his face.

Mazue felt her ear fins, as well as the one on her arms and leg, quiver ever so slightly at the sight. She was so distracted it took her a moment to glance at Ethan’s taller, hairier friend.

The friend was looking at nothing in particular ... until a second later, his nose twitched. He sniffed and then turned to look right at Mazue.

Mazue gasped and quickly ducked underwater. The second she did, tiny bubbles blew from her gills. (In Mother’s language, the stream of obscenities that these bubbles translated to were too numerous and embarrassing to mention.)

She kicked her legs and pushed with her arms, her fins allowing her to glide through the water at tremendous speed.

Water was rushing into her gills rapidly as she tried to calm her breathing.

Meanwhile, she could hear Ethan’s voice faintly on the shore.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Water rushed harder into her. She could feel herself tremble.

“I ...” The other boy paused. “No. Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Mazue exhaled, tiny bubbles rushing from her gills.

_Phew,_ thought Mazue. _Okay ... that must mean he didn’t notice me ..._

_... right? That is what that means, right?_

_What if he_ did _notice and just isn’t saying anything?_

She felt a lump in her throat.

_What if he tells Ethan he saw something weird and he’s too nervous to ever come back her again? And then I won’t ever see him again!_

Mazue lowered her head, smacking her hand against her forehead.

_Stupid! Stupid Mazue, what’s wrong with you? YOU RUINED EVERYTHING FOREVER!_

She shook her head. Nothing could calm her now. She couldn’t risk Ethan going away forever. If she wanted to even talk to him, she had to act fast.

But she still had no clear how to go about it. She was too young to Date humans the way her older sisters did, however that was.

Mazue sighed. She didn’t have many other options.

If she wanted help ... she’d have to ask advice from her sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: if I have gotten any details or terms involving the Romanian language here wrong, feel free to let me know. I am by no means an expert and will try my best to correct any inaccuracies.


End file.
